NUPTiAL
by k o u s e n
Summary: [ONESHOT] you can read her lips as she silently declares your defeat. [ROXIRI]


N**U**PT**IA**L -- ;

R**O**X**I**R**I**

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**ONE + **SHOT

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He's getting married today, you realize as you wake up. It's the day you've been dreading for over a year now. The day your best friend is stolen by the wicked witch of the west who has him hypnotized and under her spell. You don't want to get up. You want to stay in bed forever and ever and you never want to see the light of day ever again. Because you always loved the sunlight. But your love is being taken away in the form of your best friend. So it's best to just stay away from those things you used to love.

But he's invited you to the wedding, you remember. And you have to go because he's your best friend and you were the first person he told and he looked so happy and you want him to be happy forever, even if that means your demise. Because, remember? You remember, right? If he goes through with this, your love is gone. And since love is a huge part of your life, you'll lock yourself in your bedroom for weeks and weeks until he comes and saves you. But he won't come and save you this time. He's getting married.

It won't be like last time. You won't be able to lock yourself in and expect him to come and save you like last time. He's getting married. Married; gone forever. Forever. Remember last time? You remember, right? You always remember. How he told you he was marrying her and you faked up a smile to cover your dread and confusion and then you went home and locked yourself up and cried and cried. He saved you that time. He came and he found you and he told you it was alright, but it wouldn't be. But you didn't tell him that.

You get out of bed and head for the shower. The water is cold, pelting into your skin. But all you notice is the burning hot tears cascading down your cheeks. Now, you'll love what you hate. You'll find sanctuary in the rain where your tears can't be seen, even by him. He always knew everything about you, remember? You don't want to remember.

You get out of the shower and head for the closet. You go to grab for that perfect black dress. But it's a wedding. Black isn't a happy color. You're not happy, so what does it matter? He liked the dress anyway. You wore it to his aunt's funeral and he cried on your shoulder and he said he was sorry for ruining such a beautiful dress. You grab the soft pink dress you've always hated.

You sit at your vanity and stare into the mirror. You want to ask its opinion. Maybe it'll tell you he doesn't really love her, but then it would be lying and you don't like lies, which is why you're living one, right? It won't answer back anyway because you don't even have a question, do you? Mirror Mirror … help me help me.

You think of doing your hair in that crazy style he's always loved. But, it's not exactly appropriate for a wedding. She's started wearing her hair like that, though, hasn't she? You haven't worn your hair like that since. He's asked you why and you lied it was too much trouble. He would look sad and you'd tell him, maybe next time. There won't be a next time now. You do it in a simple, elegant bun.

You're trying to put on makeup but your tears keep making your mascara run. He's told you many times before, you don't need makeup. You always put on a little, and he said it was better than painting it on like those girls downtown who strut around in high heels on cobblestone streets, looking to get laid and get paid to support their four children that are each thirteen months apart. You wipe off your eyeliner and apply it just a little bit thicker.

On your way back to the closet you collapse on the bed and try not the cry. The kitten he gave you three years ago on your birthday mews in disapproval at being disturbed, then walks over to you as if to ask, what's wrong? You suddenly realize you've been dwelling on the past way too long and the wedding starts in an hour and the church is a forty-five minute drive away and you're not even ready.

You pull on the highest heels you have because you know he doesn't like them. You put in your contacts because he said your glasses are sexy and you've got to have some kind of male-repellent somewhere in that purse of yours, right? Because if you didn't, he'd never get to see you because you'd always be busy. You told him if you did he wouldn't be able to get close to you. He says that love breaks the barrier of the repellent and he's your best friend, so it's okay, right? You tell him he's been watching too much television, but you seriously wish he loved you like you loved him.

You don't still love him, right?

If only.

You get in the car he helped you pick out and you get on the interstate and drive a little slow on purpose. He always made up the craziest stories about driving a thousand miles per hour down an empty interstate, racing the guy next to you. Car's can't go that fast, you'd always remind him. But you loved hearing his stories. Now, he tells his stories to her while you clean the counter in the coffee shop, watching them sit at a table and share a latte that you paid for so he wouldn't have to. You slow down just a tiny bit more, going seventy.

You pull off the exit towards the church with fifteen minutes to spare. But there's been a wreck and you're stuck in traffic. Cars are backed up for a quarter of a mile behind an overturned car. Three children and their mother stand on the side of the road, quietly crying and shaking with terror. You look away because the pain is too much and you just need to get to his wedding so you can turn around and go home after giving him your fake happy wishes and lock yourself in the room he'll never save you from.

You've got five minutes to be there and you haven't moved even an inch. People have started to turn off their cars to save gas. The mother and her children are placed in a police van and taken to a nearby doughnut shop to calm down and call some family to pick them up. Glass is scattered in the road near the overturned car, which is half-way bent around a tree. You wonder how they all got away safe.

When traffic starts moving again you're already three and a half minutes late. The church is still nineteen minutes away and you speed to get there. You have to park in the back of the parking lot behind the janitor's car and run towards the building. You're running and running and your mind is swimming and you can't let him marry her because she's not who he thinks she is. You're crying by the time you get to the doors and you throw them open, twenty-seven minutes and nine seconds late.

You throw open the doors of the room their wedding is taking place in.

But you're a second too late and the priest had already announced them and that bitch is already smirking and holding him back from running to you, what's wrong? What's wrong, what happened? You weren't at the wedding and now you're screaming in the doorway and making them drag you out and WAIT, tell me what happened and let me go. And he's looking worried and you're screaming and crying and she's still holding him back and people are still staring.

Some of them are asking you what's wrong and why you're crying and others are telling you to shut up; you're ruining the wedding. But it's already ruined. He's already married her and she's already ruined your life and you're already wanting to go home and let your mind die in a dark room with dark walls and a dark, eerie feeling in the air where **he can't save you**.

They've called in security guards to remove you from the property. You're screaming his name, Roxas, Roxas, ROXAS! But he's just staring quietly, looking like he's about to cry. You look at her as if to ask for help before your mind comprehends the action, and she's looking more and more pleased by the moment.

And you can read her lips as she silently declares your defeat.

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"Welcome to the **fallout**."

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**x**FIN.

**DEDICATED TOO:  
**N**i**nja-Butterfl**ii**e  
for being luffly  
and for writing  
smexy stuff

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:  
**this is the fic **FELIA  
**requested I write.  
sorry, this ish the best  
I can do D:


End file.
